


i'm soaking up your rays of you

by zachas



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Theater, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, slight angst but like not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 05:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12977007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zachas/pseuds/zachas
Summary: When Nate gets to his room, his roommate’s already there, unpacking his bag.“Hey,” the guy says, smiling. “I’m Mikey.”He’s got a nice smile, Nate notices. Warm. A little soft around the edges.“Nate,” Nate says, and it doesn’t really feel like the beginning of everything, but it is.





	i'm soaking up your rays of you

**Author's Note:**

> the only reason this fic exists is because i watched dead poets society a few weeks ago and cried about it and then had to write something. don't worry, it doesn't actually follow the plot of dead poets society. only happy endings in this house.
> 
> major thanks to my friend amy for betaing this again, even though she doesn't know anything about hockey. ily amy you're the best
> 
> this is a boarding school au but it's actually like, not that much about boarding school, so yeah. also i don't actually go to a boarding school, so i apologize for any inaccuracies.
> 
> tw for underage drinking, but nothing really happens
> 
> title from nostalgia by nao

When Nate gets to his room, his roommate’s already there, unpacking his bag.

“Hey,” the guy says, smiling. “I’m Mikey.”

He’s got a nice smile, Nate notices. Warm. A little soft around the edges.

“Nate,” Nate says, and it doesn’t really feel like the beginning of everything, but it is.

“Hope you don’t mind that I chose this side?” Mikey asks, gesturing to his bed.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Nate says. He heaves his bag onto the other bed and unzips it so he can start unpacking. “I don’t care.”

“Cool,” says Mikey. “You’re new, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” Mikey says again. “I’m probably gonna go hang out with my friends pretty soon, you wanna come with?”

Nate blinks. “Uh,” he says.

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” Mikey says. He’s smiling again.

“Okay,” Nate says. “Sure.”

In the end, Nate doesn’t have to go very far, because all of Mikey’s friends end up coming to their room.

“Hey guys, this is Nate,” Mikey says to them. “Nate, these guys are Mitchell, Taylor, Alex, and Nic.”

“Hi,” one of them — Alex? Nate’s already forgotten all of their names — says. “You’re new, right?”

“Yeah,” says Nate.

“Cool,” says Alex.

The other guys mostly talk around Nate after that, complaining about their schedules and the bad teachers they got stuck with, and Nate’s more than happy to do his own thing while they talk. By the time they’ve all finished catching up with each other, Nate’s unpacked all of his clothes and shoved his empty bag underneath his bed.

“Oh wait,” says Mitchell, checking the time on his phone. “We should probably head down for dinner soon.”

“Shit, yeah,” says Taylor. “Let’s go, I’m fucking starving.”

With that, all of the guys head out of the room. Mikey’s the last one to leave, but just before he goes, he pauses in the doorway and looks back over his shoulder.

“You coming?” he asks expectantly.

“What?” Nate says.

“To dinner,” Mikey says. “With us?”

“Oh,” Nate says. “I— um, yeah. Sure.”

Nate follows Mikey and his friends down to the dining hall. They get there early, so the lines are pretty short and they manage to snag one of the better tables. Mikey saves a seat right next to him for Nate, and even though he keeps quiet and Mikey and his friends all talk around him again, it’s really not a bad first day, all things considered.

\---

The next day is when classes actually start. Nate almost falls asleep during math, but he manages to survive the day in one piece.

“Do teachers here assign this much homework everyday?” Nate asks Mikey back in their room.

“Oh buddy, it gets worse,” Mikey says.

Nate grimaces. “Fuck.”

“Hey, my friends and I usually study and do homework together in the common room,” Mikey says. “You can join us if you want?”

Nate thinks about it for a few seconds. “Okay,” he says.

\---

“Christ, I hate Latin,” Taylor laments loudly. He flips through the enormous review packet their Latin teacher had given the class to complete by tomorrow. “What the fuck is all of this stuff with ablatives? When did we learn this?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know,” Mikey says. “Any of you guy get number 10? It’s ablative of manner, right?”

Nate flips to the page. “No, it’s ablative of cause.”

“Really?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah,” says Nate. “Because the sentence says, ‘He was moved by anger to kill his brother,’ so the anger is the direct cause of the action in the sentence. Ablative of cause.”

Nic raises an eyebrow. “Wow, looks like he can talk after all.”

Mikey frowns. “Don’t be rude, Nic.”

“What’s this one?” Taylor asks, shoving his packet under Nate’s nose.

“Uh, ablative of agent,” Nate says.

“Pfft, even I knew that one, dumbass,” Mitchell laughs.

“Oh, shut up,” Taylor says. He shoves Mitchell, so Mitchell shoves him back harder, so Taylor shoves him back even harder and it all devolves into a very loud, full-scale wrestling match under the table. Nate stares at them, a little bewildered, but the other guys carry on doing what they were doing like it’s completely normal, so maybe it is.

Mikey nudges Nate’s shoulder. “What’d you get for the translation on the first page?” he asks, his voice so soft that Nate can barely hear him through the noise, but he’s more than happy to give him the answer.

\---

Nate settles into a sort of routine, after that, and the weeks go by faster than he expects. He goes to class, does his work, and hangs out with Mikey and his friends, who have all accepted him into their group without much of a complaint.

Nate goes back to his room during one of his frees and finds Mikey sitting on his bed, staring at a crumpled piece of paper.

“Hey,” Nate says.

Mikey ignores him. “Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?” he says, reading from the paper in his lap.

“Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still,” Nate says, and Mikey whips his head up and stares at Nate.

“Macbeth, right?” Nate asks.

“Yeah,” Mikey says. “Do you already have it memorized?”

“No,” Nate says quickly. “Well, maybe a little. I’ve read it a lot. It’s one of my favorite Shakespeare plays.”

Mikey laughs. “Oh my god, you’re such a nerd.”

“Shut up,” Nate says, blushing a little.

“No, no, this is good,” Mikey says, shoving the paper into Nate’s hands. “You can help me memorize this.”

“Why do you need to memorize this?” Nate asks, skimming the sheet of paper in his hand quickly. “Wait, this is for auditions for the school play? You do theater?”

“Yup,” Mikey says. “It’s pretty fun, and I’m probably gonna get a big role this time around. All our best people graduated last year, so.”

“That sounds cool,” Nate says.

Mikey’s eyes widen. “Wait, dude. You should totally audition too!”

Nate shakes his head hard. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Aw come on, it’ll be fun,” Mikey says. “And you get an art credit for it.”

“Public speaking is literally my worst nightmare,” Nate says. “Being in a play would be even worse.”

“But you already know the script really well, so it’s not like it’ll be hard to remember lines,” Mikey points out. “And you’re not necessarily gonna be cast, either. Just try it out?”

Nate bites his lip. “I don’t know, Mikey…”

“Please?” Mikey wheedles, and there’s something about the look on his face that —

“Fine,” Nate says, because saying no to Mikey McLeod has always been a lost cause. “I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” Mikey beams, and he jumps up from his bed and gives Nate a hug.

Nate blinks. “Uh,” he says.

“You’re the best,” Mikey declares. He pulls away and picks up the paper with his monologue again. “Okay, okay, you gotta help me get this down…”

\---

“Nervous?” Mikey says.

They’re sitting on the floor outside of the theater, waiting for their names to be called for the audition, and Nate is clinging onto the piece of paper with his monologue on it for dear life.

“What makes you think that?” Nate asks faintly.

Mikey gently takes the paper out of Nate’s death grip. “Dude. Look at me.”

Nate looks at him.

“You’re gonna fucking kill it out there, alright?” Mikey says. He looks serious, way more serious than Nate is used to seeing him. “Trust me, okay?”

Nate swallows. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I can do this.”

The theater doors open, and a guy with a clipboard sticks his head out. “Nate?” he calls.

Mikey gives Nate a little push towards the door. “You can do this, bro. I believe in you.”

Nate takes a deep breath and gets up. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks, Mikey.”

Mikey grins and flashes him a double thumbs up as he leaves.

\---

Nate pretty much blocks the audition from his memory until a few days later, when the cast list gets posted, and Mikey drags him over to look at it.

Mikey runs his finger down the list. “Okay, let’s see… oh, you’re the spare, Nate.”

“Oh thank god,” Nate says. “So like, I don’t actually have to do anything, right?”

“Well, you still have to come to every rehearsal and learn all the lines and stuff, but yeah, probably not,” Mikey says. “Okay, let’s see, who did I get?”

Nate catches sight of Mikey’s name on the paper. “Dude. You’re Macbeth!”

Mikey blinks. “What?”

Nate points to the list. “Look, right there.”

“Holy shit,” Mikey says. “Oh my god, I’m Macbeth!”

Nate smiles, punches him in the arm. “Congrats, hotshot.”

Mikey leans against Nate’s shoulder and laughs. “Thanks, understudy,” he says, grinning wide, and Nate doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

\---

Rehearsal for the play is pretty chill. As promised, Nate doesn’t really have to do anything, so he just hangs around, does his homework, and watches Mr. Lewis, the theater director, block scenes with the cast.

Mikey always gets this look on his face when they’re working through a scene, like he’s super focused on what they’re doing. It’s kinda funny. Or like, cute. Maybe.

It’s the same look he gets when he makes Nate help him go over his lines in their room after they finish their homework, so like, Nate sees it a lot.

 

It’s a few weeks later when Mr. Lewis asks, “Where’s Julien?” at the start of rehearsal.

Nate looks up from his homework and glances at the table where Julien usually sits. Sure enough, nobody’s there.

“He’s super sick,” PL says. “Got a really bad stomach bug or something.”

Mr. Lewis frowns. “That sounds awful. I hope he gets better soon.” He shakes his head. “What are we going to do now? We don’t have another stage manager to take notes on the blocking.”

“Nate can do it,” Mikey suggests.

“What?” says Nate.

“I mean, you’re not doing anything anyway, right?” Mikey says.

“... Yeah,” Nate says, a little reluctantly.

Mr. Lewis claps his hands. “Great! Come up here then, Nate, and grab something to take notes on.”

  


“You’re the worst,” Nate says, later, when they’re walking back to their room.

“Hey, at least now you actually have something to do during rehearsal,” Mikey says, smiling.

Nate huffs. “I was _enjoying_ not having to do anything.”

“That’s because you’re boring and hate fun,” Mikey says, and then immediately ducks out of the way of Nate’s attempt to put him in a headlock and runs away.

Nate sets off after him. “Come back here, McLeod!” he yells, but he’s smiling and he can hear Mikey’s laughter echoing down the hallway.

\---

Nate dutifully acts as the stage manager — which really only consists of taking notes during rehearsals — until Julien gets better, and then he keeps doing it even after Julien gets better, because —

“It’s always good to have more than one stage manager, and you’re not doing anything else anyway, are you?” Mr. Lewis says.

“... I guess not,” Nate says, frowning.

Julien raises an eyebrow after Mr. Lewis walks away. “You don’t sound too excited,” he says.

“I have homework,” Nate says, maybe a little grumpily, and Julien laughs.

“You’ll make it work,” he says. “We all do.”

\---

Honestly, being a stage manager isn’t as bad as Nate thought it would be. It’s kinda fun. And now Nate hangs with the tech crew kids sometimes, who are pretty chill, even though all they do during breaks is juul in the bathroom.

One of the Lauzons even adds him to the tech group chat, and it occurs to Nate that he might have signed up for the wrong thing when he wrote his name on the audition sheet. But he’s still having fun, so he guesses that it’s okay.

\---

Tech week passes by in a blur of exhaustion, and before Nate knows it, it’s opening night.

Nate knocks on the door to the dressing room and then opens it, poking his head in. “Thirty minutes until opening,” he calls.

“Thank you, thirty,” the actors chorus back.

Nate’s about to close the door and leave, but then Mikey says, “Oh, Nate, can you help me zip this?” so Nate steps back into the dressing room and helps Mikey zip up his costume.

“Nervous?” Nate asks.

Mikey smiles at him through the mirror, but Nate can see it’s forced. “... A little,” he admits.

“You’re gonna kill it out there,” Nate promises. “Seriously.”

“I know,” Mikey says. “But opening night’s always a little nerve wracking.”

“You’ll be fine,” Nate says. “I know you will. Break a leg.”

Mikey laughs. “Will do.”

\---

Opening night goes spectacularly. Mikey, true to form, absolutely kills it, and the crowd gives them all a standing ovation.

Nate waits for Mikey to finish getting dressed, and ambushes him with a hug as soon as he walks out of the dressing room.

“Oh my god, you were amazing!” Nate says.

Mikey laughs, sweaty and exhausted. “Get off of me,” he says, but he makes no move to shove Nate away.

“Seriously, you were so good,” Nate says.

“Thanks, Nate,” Mikey says, and he smiles, wide and bright.

\---

The cast kills the Friday night performance, too. And even though Philippe Myers messes up a few of the sound cues, overall, everything goes well. Nate goes to bed tired, but ready for the final performance.

The next morning, Mikey violently shakes Nate awake.

“Mikey, what the —?”

“Nate,” Mikey croaks, and Nate’s eyes snap open.

“Your voice,” Nate says, trying to push down the panic welling up in his chest. “What happened to your voice?”

\---

“Well shit,” says Nick Suzuki. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Everyone from the cast and crew that Mr. Lewis could find is in the theater for the emergency meeting.

“Nate,” Mr. Lewis says slowly. “Do you know Mikey’s lines?”

Nate blinks. “Uh. I mean —”

Mikey nods vigorously. “He does, I —” He breaks off, coughing.

“Mikey… Mikey made me go over all his lines with him to help him get off book,” Nate says for him. “But you — you’re not seriously thinking of —”

“What about the costume? Would Nate fit into Mikey’s costume?” Jeremy Lauzon asks.

“I’m only a little bit taller than him, so it’d probably work, but —” Nate starts.

“What about the blocking?” someone else asks.

“You took notes on the blocking,” Julien says to Nate. “You remember it all, right?”

“I… yeah, I guess,” Nate says. “I’ve never like, done it, though.”

“That’s something we can fix,” Mr. Lewis says. “We still have some time until tonight’s performance. Jeremy, go fetch Mikey’s costume. Everyone else who’s here, get into your positions. We need to do a practice run of the whole show with Nate.”

“Wait,” Nate says. “Is this really the plan we’re going with? I’m not — I can’t do this. The — The understudy’s never actually supposed to do anything, I—”

Mr. Lewis sighs. “This is the only plan we’ve got, Nate,” he says, not unkindly. “Do you have a better idea?”

Nate bites his lip.

“That’s what I thought,” Mr. Lewis says. “Come on, everyone. Places!”

\---

Mikey’s costume does fit Nate, though the pants are a little short.

Nate’s backstage, because he doesn’t actually come on until the third scene of the first act, so right now he’s sitting on the floor, trying very hard to remember how to breathe.

Mikey’s there too, because — actually, Nate doesn’t know why he’s there. Probably because he knew how much Nate was going to freak out.

Mikey scoots closer to Nate. “Hey,” he whispers.

“You know, whispering is worse for a sore throat than speaking normally is,” Nate says.

Mikey ignores him. “Look,” he says hoarsely. “You’re gonna be amazing out there, okay?”

Nate laughs a little sarcastically. “I don’t know, Mikey,” he says. “I don’t know.”

Mikey grabs Nate’s hand and squeezes it. _“I_ know,” he says. “Just believe me.”

Nate takes a deep breath and squeezes Mikey’s hand back. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

“A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come!”

Julien peeks his head through the backstage curtains. “Your cue’s coming up, get ready,” he whispers to Nate.

Nate gets to his feet. “Okay,” he says again. “I got this.”

“You got this,” Mikey says firmly, and it sounds like a promise.

\---

Everything after the moment Nate steps onto the stage for his first line is a blur. All he can remember is the oppressive brightness of the stage lights and the feeling of his sweat trickling down his back and the stickiness of the fake blood smeared on his neck.

It’s only when the lights go down and the audience erupts into applause and someone’s dragging him back onto the stage to do the final bows that Nate realizes it’s over. It’s another standing ovation, and the audience claps for hours, it feels like.

Mikey tackles Nate with a hug as soon as he comes off the stage.

“Oh my god, Nate!” he screams into Nate’s ear, or tries to scream, at least.

“You probably shouldn’t be yelling with your voice like that,” Nate manages to say.

“Dude! You were _so_ fucking good,” Mikey says.

“Thanks,” Nate says, still in a daze.

Mikey pulls back from the hug and grins ear to ear. “See, I was right. I told you could do it.”

Nate smiles back, and there’s something weird and warm spreading in his chest. “Yeah.”

\---

Apparently, there’s a party for the cast and crew of the play, which everyone except for Nate seemed to know about already, and it’s at Owen’s house, because he lives in the city and his parents aren’t going to be home until Tuesday. Nate doesn’t really remember how he gets to Owen’s house after the play, but he thinks that Mikey probably called them an Uber.

He’s only had a few beers, but he feels way drunker than he is, still feeling that wave of adrenaline and victory he’s been riding since the final bows.

Nate wanders around a bit with Mikey until Mikey makes him be his beer pong partner. They wipe the floor with everyone else, and Mikey throws an arm around Nate’s shoulders and yells, “What a beauty!” and wow, he really shouldn’t be yelling if he wants his throat to get better anytime soon.

At some point, Nate finds himself sitting alone on the stairs, Mikey-less for the first time in the night. It feels weird. He takes a sip from his cup and wonders if he should go look for him.

“Look at that, it’s the man of the night,” someone says.

Nate looks up. “Oh, hey PL,” he says.

“Hey Nate,” PL says. “What are you doing, sitting here all alone?”

Nate shrugs. “I dunno. Just tired, I guess.”

PL studies his face for a minute, then groans.

“What?” says Nate.

“This is about McLeod, isn’t it?” PL asks.

“Huh?” says Nate.

PL shakes his head. “Of all people, why him? I mean like, he’s kinda cute, I’ll give you that, but seriously?”

Nate blinks. “What are you talking about?”

PL shrugs. “Nothing wrong with crushing on your best friend, Bastian, we’ve all been there. It happens to the best of us.”

“You — You think —” Nate stops, takes a breath. “PL, I’m not— I don’t like guys.”

“You… You don’t…” PL laughs, then downs the rest of his beer. “God, I’m not drunk enough to have this conversation.”

“I’m serious!” Nate says.

“I _know_ you are —”

“I just don’t — why would you think —?”

“I don’t know, dude,” PL snaps. “It’s almost like you hang out with him so _fucking_ much that I can probably count on one hand how many times I’ve seen you without him, and that you _never_ stop smiling whenever you’re with him, and that there was that one time in rehearsal when he wasn’t doing anything because he wasn’t in any of the scenes we were going over, so he went over to you and laid his head down in your lap and you literally _pet his hair —”_

“He’s my _friend!”_ Nate says. Swallows, looks down at the floor. “Probably the best friend I’ve ever had,” he says to his knees, and it comes out too quiet, too open, too honest.

PL stares at him for a long moment. Opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. Opens it again. “Look,” he says finally. “Forget I said anything.”

“But —”

PL cuts him off. “I’ll see you later, Bastian,” he says, and he walks away before Nate can say anything else.

\---

For the most part, Nate puts the party and his conversation with PL out of his head. He doesn’t think about it at all, really. He doesn’t like guys like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that. It just doesn’t work that way for him.

Except.

Except there’s Mikey, who always sits squished up against Nate’s side at their crowded lunch table, stealing the peas off of Nate’s plate because he actually likes peas for some reason, Mikey who crawls onto Nate’s tiny bed with his laptop on late Saturday nights and makes Nate watch terrible Netflix shows with him until he falls asleep on Nate’s shoulder somewhere around the fourth or fifth episode, Mikey who always smiles that goddamn Mikey McLeod smile, and  —

\---

 **nate (2:03 am):** how do i unrealize something

 

 **pl (2:32 am):** im really not in the mood to deal with your gay crisis atm bastian

 **nate (2:32 am):** it’s not a gay crisis it’s a i think im in love with my best friend and i kinda want to die crisis

 **pl (2:33 am):** oh

 **pl (2:33 am):** well

 

 **pl (2:41 am):** it doesn’t really get any better

 

 **nate (2:46 am):** fuck

\---

(Honestly, Nate sorta feels like he should be freaking out a little bit more about the whole liking guys thing, because like, that’s a thing now that wasn’t a thing before. And he did freak out a little bit about it, _is_ freaking out a little bit about it, but.

It’s Mikey. It makes sense.)

\---

Nate half expects the world to end after the whole big dramatic realization and everything, but to his surprise, life goes on just like normal. January and February bleed into March and April, and it gets warm fast, way faster than it usually does. Nate’s never really cared much for spring before, but the fresh air is nice.

And sometimes, Mikey drags him out to the lakeside to sit and relax in the sun. Usually, he does it during lunch, after everyone’s finished eating, and he brings all the rest of their friends with them. Usually.

But sometimes, it’s just them. Just them, lying together in the damp grass, staring at the clouds.

It’s nice.

\---

Nate wakes up to a towel thrown at his head.

“The fuck?” he says.

“Shh, quiet down,” Mikey says.

“What time is it?” Nate asks.

“It’s four am,” Mikey says. “Are you coming?”

Nate squints through the darkness, and he can make out the figure of Mikey standing by the door to their room, towel thrown over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Can’t sleep, so I’m sneaking out of the dorm and going to swim on the lake,” Mikey says. “Duh.”

“Duh,” Nate echoes.

“So, are you coming?” Mikey asks again.

“You’re insane,” Nate says, but he pushes aside his covers and gets out of bed because, again. Lost cause.

“Hurry up,” Mikey says, and Nate’s not entirely sure, because their room is dark as shit, but he thinks he can make out a smile on Mikey’s face.

“We’re gonna be so fucking dead if we get caught,” Nate says, slipping on his shoes. “Like, actually.”

“So don’t get us caught then,” Mikey says. “You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nate says, grabbing his towel. “Let’s go.”

They manage to sneak out of the dorm make it down to the lake. Mikey strips down to his boxers and jumps into the water almost immediately, but Nate takes more time.

“C’mon Nater, get in!” Mikey says, poking his head out of the water.

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Nate says. He takes off his clothes and dips his foot into the water.

“Aw, don’t be a wimp,” says Mikey. “Just jump!”

“It’s fucking cold, Mikey,” Nate says.

Mikey grabs Nate’s leg and pulls him in.

Nate screams and inhales a lungful of water as he goes under. He fights his way to the top and gasps for air when he breaks the surface.

“See?” Mikey says, and he’s grinning his shit eating grin. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“You’re _so_ fucking dead, McLeod,” Nate says, and he splashes a huge wave of water into Mikey’s face.

Mikey splutters indignantly. “Oh, it is _on,”_ he says, and Nate laughs and splashes him again.

\---

Eventually, they tire themselves out and drag themselves out of the water, still giggling. Nate makes a vague effort to dry himself off with his towel, but mostly he just lays there next to Mikey on the ground

“Okay,” Nate admits, panting. “That was fun.”

“See,” Mikey says, also panting. “All of my ideas are good ideas.”

Nate pretends to think about it. “I _guess,”_ he says, and Mikey shoves him and laughs.

After that, they lay there together in the grass for a while. Nate smiles and closes his eyes and breathes in the moonlit air.

 

When he opens his eyes, Mikey’s staring at him, and there’s a look on his face that Nate can’t quite decipher.

“What?” Nate asks a little self-consciously. He rolls onto his side and looks back at him.

“Can I —?” Mikey starts, and then he moves a little closer to Nate, but he might be imagining that.

“Can you what?” Nate says, except he’s whispering for some reason, and his heart is beating loudly against his ribcage.

Mikey leans in again, and yeah, Nate’s definitely not imagining it. Mikey swallows. “Can I try something?” he murmurs, and his voice is so, so quiet.

“Okay,” Nate breathes. Their noses are almost touching, now.

Mikey reaches a hand up to Nate’s face, gently tilting his chin up, and Nate’s eyelids flutter shut of their own volition.

 

Mikey’s mouth is soft, still a little wet with lake water, and Nate thinks he could drown in his lips forever.

 

They break apart but just barely, their foreheads still pressing, and Nate can feel Mikey’s breath against his lips.

“This is the part where I’m supposed to wake up, right?” Nate whispers.

Mikey laughs. “Oh, so you dream about me, do you, Bastian?”

And Nate — Nate doesn’t know how to say, _of course I do,_ doesn’t know how to say, _you’re amazing, Mikey,_ doesn’t know how to say, _I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you smile,_ so he just pulls him in and kisses him again.

 

Nate’s not sure how long they stay like that, just laying there, kissing in the grass, but by the time Mikey sits up and says, “Look,” Nate’s lips are chapped and sore.

“What?” Nate says, lifting his head.

“The sky,” Mikey says, pointing. “The sun’s rising.”

Nate looks, and sure enough, the horizon is lightening at the edges, casting lovely shades of red and orange and purple through the bluish-black sky.

“Wow,” says Nate, staring at the sky in awe. “I’ve never seen a sunrise in person before.”

“Me neither,” Mikey says.

They sit there for a while, and Nate knows, logically, that they should probably go back to their room soon, or else they’ll get caught. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. Just lets himself have this little moment, leaning his head against Mikey’s chest and watching the colors spread through the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://zachas.tumblr.com)


End file.
